A tattoo is a huge decision, something that impacts the rest of your life because it is permanent. Josh and I made a promise that we would get our first tattoos together. I wanted us to go into it as equals, facing this new experience together. I wanted it to be a special memory we could share.

This weekend he went to Orlando with a friend to see an old friend that now goes to college there. He had been talking to me about possibly getting a tattoo while up there, but after discussion promised he wouldn’t, because of the aforementioned reasons, because he wanted us to do it together too. He promised.

So he calls me tonight and tells me he got one. Without me. Breaking his promise.

He says “oh, it’s not a big deal, Love. I’ll come with you when you get yours. I’ll even get another with you.”

But it isn’t that easy. Because he’ll have done it before. It isn’t shared anymore. It isn’t us facing the new and unknown together.

And I feel completely and utterly betrayed.

Where I’m usually always anxious to talk to him and hear his voice, I can’t stand to even think of talking to him. I feel worthless, unimportant. Like he decided I wasn’t special enough to experience this with. I’m not good enough.

And this thing is permanent. It isn’t some small fight. If I marry him like planned, I’ll have this reminder permanently etched on his body of his betrayal, staring at me in the face for the rest of our lives. So instead of always reminding me of a happy memory whenever I see it, it’ll be bad.

I don’t know what else to say. I don’t want to see him, I don’t want to hear from him. Everything I feel for him has been stolen away. He’s always been the one I go to to be happy. He’s always been able to cheer me up, he’s always been there for me. What now?